Intermission
by Nicoteen
Summary: Missing moments between the hardened NCR sniper, and the Courier with one too many guns.  Off-shoot of Gunslinger.
1. Chapter 1

**Intermission**

Excerpt One  
><em>"Dream, sweetly dream,"<em> 

When Boone signed up with the Courier, there were many things he hadn't expected. Getting less sleep than her, was one of them. As a habit, Courier Hawkins slept only a few hours every night. She'd sometimes go two days without a wink, only shutting her eyes when her body began to tremble and her aim was off.

Needless to say, after a few weeks, Craig Boone began to notice why.

Lying on the cot beside him, back against a large rock wall overlooking Mojave, Hawkins twitched. The sniper cast a glance at her, firelight flickering on his face. A moment went by before she groaned and whined pitifully, curling into a ball under the dirty blanket.

Her eyes moved restlessly under their lids. Upon further inspection, he noticed dark circles under them, framing her large grey eyes.

They made her look sick, to him.

Unsure of what to do, Boone simply scooted a bit closer and leaned back, his watchful gaze on their surroundings.

With every whimper, his frown deepened.

* * *

><p>Two weeks later, the night was repeated. They were sleeping in the Atomic Wrangler, the special room that Hawkins had some how conned the twins out of. Unable to sleep, Boone sat on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling.<p>

A few hours after she had finally fallen asleep, the courier began to make those pitiful sounds, body restless.

The robot hovered over Boone worriedly, chirping and beeping in earnest. He quieted it with a hushed hiss, and made his way to the bed. He stood there for five very long minutes, watching as she twisted and turned, nightmares plaguing her mercilessly.

Slowly, he reached forward, resting his hand on the first place he reached, her stomach. Sitting down on the bed, he let his hand rest on her sunburned tummy, calloused thumb moving in soothing circles over her rib.

Hawkins quieted after a moment, body stilling. Her whimpers quieted and Boone pulled the sheet over her body, making sure not to tuck it in too tightly.

She hated being restrained, the sniper recalled.

_Funny_, he thought.

He'd never pegged her for the type to have more nightmares than a hardened NCR sniper.

Moving back to the couch, he settled down and began to doze, hand tight on his rifle.

* * *

><p>"Did you slip me somethin'?"<p>

Boone blinked at her. "What?"

"Did you slip me somethin' in my drink last night?" Her voice was getting louder now, mouth set indignantly.

"No. Why?" He asked, curious.

"I haven't slept that well in...well, in a long damn time. I'll bet it was the twins, the shifty bastards." Hawkins muttered, pulling on her scarf.

Boone smirked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Intermission**

Excerpt Two

"_He starts choppin', don't know when to stop,"_

"Boone, why don't you go take a walk?"

The sniper turned to Hawkins, eyebrows raised. He looked pointedly from the bloody package behind her, to the campfire in front of him. It was near dusk, and from the looks of things, they weren't going to be alone for very long. Two radscorpions had already stumbled upon them in the past three hours.

He wasn't letting her out of his sight.

"No."

The courier set her jaw and glared at him, bending down to poke the flames viciously.

"Stupid...goddamn stubborn...men." She grumbled.

Moments later, she shoved the package back into her knapsack, mouth pinched. ED-E floated a few feet away, beeping every so often as he watched for any potential enemies. Hawkins ran a hand through her short hair, fingers catching on curls at the end.

The makeshift camp was awkwardly silent for nearly twenty minutes before Boone decided to speak up.

"No one's stopping you." He commented carefully.

Hawkins, who had been staring blandly into the fire, jerked out of her trance and glared at him.

"No. It's weird."

"Fine."

Another beat of silence.

"For fucks sake, just do it. Your moping is pissing me off." The sniper snapped, jaw clenched.

"Get bent."

Boone threw up his hands and lay down on his cot, back turned to her.

If he was being completely honest, Boone was curious to see how she cooked...it. His companions strange dietary choices didn't arouse any emotion in him, although they left him a bit disturbed and inquisitive. She'd dissappear for an hour or two, arriving back with a large grin on her face.

It sent shivers down his spine, that grin.

He could only imagine how her victims felt.

* * *

><p>"Boone."<p>

"I know."

"_Fuck._"

The courier kicked the cazador's corpse violently, rage etched into her sunburned face. They were out of food.

"How much longer 'til...anywhere?" The sniper asked, ignoring the pains in his stomach.

"At least a day."

The two resigned themselves to their fate and continued moving, stopping a few hours later to rest. Hawkins rummaged through her sack determinedly, Boone watching her. Sighing, the sniper looked down at his rifle, fiddling with the scope for a moment.

He looked up. Her cussing and rifling had stopped and Hawkins stared blankly into the bag.

"What is it?"

She licked her dry lips and looked away, closing the bag quickly.

"Nothing, it's...nothing." The courier mumbled.

Boone stared at her. After a moment, understanding dawned on his face.

"I can make it to Jacobstown. Just...do it quietly." He instructed, turning his back on her and continuing to fiddle with his weapon.

He heard her sigh, and after a moment, the click of a dial as she turned up the radio's volume on her pip-boy.

"_Twenty men had tried to take him, and that many men were dead," _

Boone closed his eyes. No. He couldn't deny, no matter how much he wished to.

He was curious.


	3. Chapter 3

Excerpt #3

_"I just want to set a flame in your heart,"_

After finding out about her rather...unfortunate incident with Vulpes Inculta, Boone changes. The shift is infintesimal, minute. Had she not been made hyper-aware by her raw emotions, she would've never noticed. It isn't something that's polite in common conversation, or to even think about. So she tries not to.

Hawkins tries not to think about how he touches her more than he used to. More than he safely should.

Trailing behind him as they make their way to Camp Mccarran, the Courier inspects the back of his head as if it did her harm. The robot is off inspecting some dead coyote, out of her way as she prefers it. Now there's nothing to distract her from very carefully _not_ thinking about the way Boone's hand brushed her waist this morning.

Or the way his thigh brushed her shoulder as he spotted for her two days ago.

She shuddered and amped up the volume on her pip-boy. Movement caught her eye, a grin forming on her sunburned face as the sniper twitched violently. He despised the noise, unable to detect danger as well as he could when she was silent.

"Mind turning it down?" he asked gruffly, glancing back at her.

Feeling cheeky, Hawkins skipped up next to him, turning the dial twice more. Her smile was saccharine sweet.

"Sorry, what was that kitten? Speak up."

Boone scowled at her, his sunglasses only intensifying his displeasure. Her grin grew wicked.

Reaching forward, she lay a hand on his shoulder, gripping it firmly. His muscles were tense and he only stiffened further at her touch. Boone glanced down at her, still cross.

"Loosen up a bit, will ya?" her tone was gentle, only just loud enough to be heard over the music.

Before her hand slid away, she massaged his shoulder slightly, fingers digging firmly and languidly into him. The hitch in his breath and the slackening of his lips made her shiver in delight.

Dancing away, she could tell he was confused. Her mood was the complete opposite of what she'd been like the past week. She didn't blame him.

It was probably the heat.

* * *

><p>Later that night, in a tent tucked away from the rest of the camp, Boone got his revenge.<p>

After the back breaking, yet gratifying, assassinations they'd carried out for some NCR prick (her words, not his), Hawkins was worn out. Having exerted herself mightily against Driver Nephi and Cook-Cook, she was tense and irritable. It had taken great restraint to keep their heads intact, and even more so to wrestle it from their bodies.

She lay face down in the cot, whimpering slightly into the musty pillow. Her arms were splayed rather uncomfortably at her sides but she couldn't bring herself to move. Maybe if she just stayed in one spot, she'd become happily numb and...

Hawkins began to drift, still in pain, when a heavy weight settled on either side of her body. She started, groaning as her back ached in protest. She opened her mouth to ask just what the fuck Boone thought he was doing when her world exploded into red and white.

His hands kneaded her muscles deeply, his fingers pushing around expertly. Her mouth was open in an O of shock, unable to comprehend their position.

Boone shifted and his fingers ground mercilessly into a particularly stubborn knot. Hawkins buried her face into the mattress and let loose a low groan, her hands gripping the bars of the bedframe tightly. His hands skirted hotly over her neck, rubbing gently rubbing the sunburned skin and the knots beneath it.

The weight shifted as Boone leaned forward, his breath ghosting over her ear.

"Relax," he murmured, palming her ribcage and rubbing deeply into her sides.

Hawkins felt her brain short out, pleasure arcing up and down her spine. He would have to stop, soon.

_Before this turns into something much less innocent and kindly,_ she thought weakly, refusing the burn that flared in her lower stomach.

Trying to let it go, she found that simply focusing on his hands made it much easier.

In no time at all, the courier was sleeping contentedly, a very frustrated yet satisfied sniper looming over her.

Two could play at this game, but it wasn't much use on her part, for Craig Boone was a very crafty player indeed.

Smirking, he sat back and watched her sleep, feeling very much the victor.


End file.
